


Compulsion and Homesickness

by CoyoteStarrksAss



Category: Dragon Quest VIII
Genre: (and it's tryin to call him home), (hint- it's the Dragovian Sanctuary), (not anymore than Eight doesnt have at least), Angelo does apologize tho he aint an ass, Compulsion, Eight is called Eight here, Eight just feels a need to find out what is at the top of that mountain, Homesickness, Medea is a horse still, Memory Loss, Morrie would probs be amused at seein what happens to whoever yells at Eight, Self-Doubt, Yangus is too tired to yell tho and Trode makes a point that they dont need infighting, also Munchie does bitch Angelo out for yellin at Eight, bc im unoriginal babey, dont yell at Eight or sister Jessica will Kill you, later on Mama Red will too, set before the Dark Ruins and thus before Evil Jessica and that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteStarrksAss/pseuds/CoyoteStarrksAss
Summary: After receiving Baumren's Bell and a Sabrecat from Master Felix and Tom, the party prepares to make their way to Argonia, desperately searching for Dhoulmagus' whereabouts despite following whatever way Eight feels it best for them to go in.Speaking of Eight, however, he jumps off the Sabrecat and heads for a mountain, in which the others can't seem to understand what about it is intriguing to him. What in the world is he thinking?!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Compulsion and Homesickness

**Author's Note:**

> hellooooooooooo
> 
> i was ridin a sabrecat by the sanctuary in my post game save slot today and thought "wow yanno eight probs looked at that and was like hm wonder why i wanna go there :) wonder why i had a vision of that openin after we beat Rhapthorne the first time. what is it" and so  
> yea
> 
> in any case. he probs had a feelin yanno ? And before that, well. He kinda just has to assume hes Trodainian, bc what else could he be ???? Poor Eight ;;n;;
> 
> anyway if u step on the platform after u beat the dragovian trials Angelo will be like "it's probably your Dragovian blood that lead you here" so even better

“Who would’ve thought that he’d have had himself a Great Sabrecat to fit all four of us!” Exclaimed Jessica- resident Mage of the world’s chosen hero’s party. Quite the courageous and fiery young woman, she was also one of the hero’s greatest friends, one of the first aside from Yangus. “What a great idea this was, stopping by Chateau Felix!”

“Who’d’a thunk that there’s even a Sabrecat this _‘uge_!” The aforementioned Yangus exclaimed as well, a hearty laugh following his words. Being the hero’s first friend on this journey, he was by far the one most comfortable in following whatever the hero wanted to do, no matter how much the others seemed to protest against it. Hurrying to attach their respective bags to the Sabrecat’s side (after putting an appropriate harness to carry them on the creature, of course), he turned to the other three people behind him, though he only addressed the former Templar of them, and said, “Oi, ain’tcha gonna hurry on, now? It won’t be an easy thing, yanno, gettin’ all’a this mess on’ta the ‘cat!”

Sighing, the white haired archer made his way over, defeatedly handing his bag over to Yangus. “Easy or not, I’m simply happy to have a faster means of transportation on this continent. Wouldn’t you agree, Eight?” He added on, turning to the hero, who had walked up behind him. Angelo chuckled softly, giving a small, “Quiet as ever, aren’t you?” to him as the brunette simply nodded in response to his question.

Whereas Angelo was by far the most level-headed in comparison to the hero, Jessica, Yangus, and King Trode (whom was still speaking to Tom, the caretaker of the Chateau, employed under its master, Felix), Eight the hero was absolutely the quietest of them all, often forgoing speaking to simply assess his surroundings. In the towns the party had previously gone to, they each could only count on one hand the amount of times he had spoken to anyone but themselves, and even when they took his speaking to _them_ into account, it hardly called for their second hands. According to the King, the former castle soldier-turned-hero had been this way for almost as long as he had been within the kingdom of Trodain, the only exception being the year in which he had first arrived. He was slowly beginning to open up more, as situations called for him to do so, but in all actuality, he was still the one of them all who used their voice the least. The Princess-turned-horse Medea even _neighed_ more than the young man spoke. 

(So one might imagine the others’ surprise when, later on in the night, their conversation would be broken by Eight yelling out.)

When Trode finally said his goodbyes to Tom and made his way to the others (“It is a King’s duty to thank those who help him and his own in his time of need!”, he had insisted when he was meant with groans upon his return to the party), he settled himself into the wagon that Medea was pulling and huffed, looking to them all from his seat expectantly. 

“Well? Have you all decided on which we are to do?” He finally asked, gesturing around himself. “I shan’t keep myself and Medea in the same place for any longer should we have no business there! Where are we to go now?”

“The guv said earlier that ‘e wanted to head to the east, see what was down that way.” Yangus answered him, referring to Eight when he said “the guv”. Having affectionately named him so back when they first met due to Eight choosing to save him instead of letting him fall into the sea despite Yangus trying to rob him and Trode for gold coins, the other members of the party had long since grown used to the little nickname. Eight had never indicated he didn’t like it, anyway, so occasionally the others would use it in reference to him as well (save Trode, at least; he felt it demeaning to not call the young man by his name, having grown used to his presence from many years as being Medea’s friend and one of his own guard).

“East? What do you think we’ll find there, Eight?” Jessica asked him, though she knew she would more than likely receive a shrug as an answer instead of a verbal response. True to her expectations, Eight did just so, though he did offer some words as a way to solidify his decisions.

“I just feel compelled.”  
  
Angelo spread his hands, waving in Eight’s direction as he said, a twinge of sarcasm in his tone, “Well, we’ve heard the reasoning. Where he feels compelled, we must follow, must we not?” 

“Aye, don’t be so mean to him, now,” Jessica chastised, wagging her finger in Angelo’s face before putting an arm around Eight’s shoulders.  
  
“Honestly, why _did_ you come along if all you’re going to do is complain every time Eight chooses to do something off-track? There’s no harm in it, and sometimes it benefits us _all_.”  
  
“The keyword there _is_ ‘sometimes', Jessica.” Eight said softly, causing Jessica to whirl on him as Angelo and Yangus, able to hear the exchange, erupted into laughter. 

“Why, you- I’m _agreeing_ with you, you dolt!” She snapped, though she too was on the verge of laughing. “How da-dare you agree with him when I’m trying to have your back on this!” 

“Oh, do _please_ stop your racket, all of you!” King Trode cut in before anyone else could, shaking his head despite sporting his own smile. _Leave it to the King to get to the point,_ Eight thought.

“Let us get _on_ with this journey; we don’t have all day, and better yet, not all _year_ , I do hope you know!”

“Fine, fine-” were the grumbles Trode got in response, but the party did hurry along to prepare themselves and settle onto their new transport, the Great Sabrecat given to them. Eight took the front, as the hero and leader, with Jessica, Yangus, and Angelo bringing up the rear behind him (for while normally Yangus would be behind or next to him, Jessica was the most agile of the four, and she would be able to grab Eight should he accidentally lose grip and fall off the quickest). With each of them in tow, Trode nodding his readiness and Medea neighing and shaking her mane to show that she was prepared to go as fast as she needed to keep up, Eight gave the Great Sabrecat a pet or two before letting him take off, surprised with the speed at which they did. The saber was truly quicker than a horse-drawn wagon. 

“Master Felix- truly wasn’t joking, when he said how fast they get!” Angelo yelled just above the wind, the only one yet daring to speak. Eight was tempted to yell back _No kidding!_ , however, but Jessica beat him to it. Satisfied with that and glad to see them all smiling about the ordeal (though King Trode looked a bit frazzled, since Medea had heretofore not gone at such a speed with the wagon), he turned back to keep an eye on where they were going. He was content to keep looking on before an oddly shaped mountain caught his eye, the distance between them and the mountain closing quickly as the Sabrecat continued on. In the dark of night, it was hard to make out, but Eight could see how the land around spiraled towards the top, where he could _just_ make out the legs of a platform-like structure out. He was astounded to find that a part of him wanted to just… _Stop_ here, get down and climb his way up. He found that as they got closer, the feeling got stronger, pulling at him as though it were coming from deep in his chest. His head felt the smallest bit fuzzy, and a pain was growing directly between his eyes the longer he looked at the way towards his-

“ ** _Stop_**!” He yelled out suddenly, surprised to find that his voice echoed against the small rock-faces around them, but he yelled so loudly and so suddenly that the Great Sabrecat scrambled to halt itself, Medea rearing on her hind legs and trying to slow herself as he all but launched himself off the Sabrecat, running towards the mountain as fast as he could. He was vaguely aware of how Jessica’s fingers just barely brushed against his sleeve, her and Trode yelling out his name. He didn’t look back, though, and instead kept running until he was staring up the mountain’s front side, not yet at the foot of it so as to keep the platform in his sight. As he looked up, he could see Jessica and King Trode running up to him as well, Angelo having taken Trode’s spot on the wagon to reign Medea in and slow her down, Yangus staying on the Sabrecat and having it run up to catch up, from the corner of his eye. 

“”Ey now, guv, what’s the big idea?! What’s gotten into ya?!” Yangus cried out worriedly, panting as he and the Sabrecat came up to his side. Angelo too looked worried, masking it with irritation, as he and Medea came up, the both of them panting as well (at least, he _assumed_ horses could pant, and it looked to be what she was doing). 

“What _is_ the big idea indeed!” Trode snapped, stomping his foot. He leaned on Jessica a bit for support, his small, troll-like form not the best in physical performance. “What possessed you to jump off from a _moving Sabrecat_ in the manner you did?! You could have _died_ , my boy!”

“Of all the ways to get us to stop, you sure didn’t have to frighten us so!” Jessica quipped as well, forcing her hand up to his forehead, making him blink in shock and look at them all, as if just fully realizing that they had come up to him. 

“I- I’m sorry.” He mumbled, blinking a few times as he tried to shake the fog from his head. It had only grown stronger, now that he was so near to the mountain, but the pain between his eyes and the _want_ to climb the mountain was even greater still. He felt as though there was something equally pulling him towards the rock and pushing him away, and he couldn’t think of any reason as to why this would be happening. 

“‘ _Sorry_ ’ is not enough for this,” Angelo scoffed, reaching over to soothe some hair that had flown astray from Medea’s mane. “It’s not enough that you frightened our dear Jessica, but you frightened Lady Medea just as well! What in the Goddess’ name intrigues you so much about this mountain that you thought to do this?” 

“It-” Eight tried to answer him, to answer each of their looks in a way he could do so all at once, but he quickly shut his mouth as he realized they may not be feeling the same things he was about this mountain. He looked to the ground as he remembered how their eyes, in comparison to his own, were not as well at seeing at night, for some reason; he’d always had exceptional night vision, but in a situation like this, there would be no point to trying to explain what he could see at the top of the mountain and how it was affecting him. 

He was defeated here, and he couldn’t count on his already-few words to explain the situation well enough. 

“I felt compelled.” He said rather lamely, not looking up to any of them. He could almost feel Angelo’s irritation spike, as if it were a hot spike being poked into his side. 

“There you are again- Eight, I _know_ you were sort of thrust into this role of ‘hero’ by whatever powers that be, but we can _not_ follow every single lead you feel _compelled_ to! We have a _real_ task at hand, and we _must_ be prepared for such a time in which we may be ambushed, and you _throwing_ yourself from the back of a Great Sabrecat is _not_ one of the things we need at this very moment!”  
  
“I hope you remember that little quip about not following every compulsion one feels when _you_ feel compelled to follow some random bunny girl or a handsome bartender home!” Jessica snapped at him immediately, hands on her hips as if she were apprehending her younger brother, but Eight simply looked down in shame. He hadn’t meant to worry his friends so, he had just- he had _needed_ to get closer. It was an impulse, one he hadn’t given himself time to think better of, and he hadn’t meant it to cause a fuss. 

“Let us not devolve into fighting amongst ourselves, now!” King Trode tried to reign them in, shaking his head in disappointment. “As much as we cannot afford to throw ourselves from Sabrecats, we need a mutiny even _less_ , so please do calm down!  
  
“Let us simply all return to the task at hand, and find you all an inn to sleep in tonight. I rather think you _all_ would benefit from such, at the moment.” He finalized, his hands clasping behind his back. Eight knew that stance all too well; the King was thinking hard on this, and next he saw him, Eight would be getting a talking-to of some sort. It did nothing to improve his mood, but he knew it was what he deserved, for scaring them. 

Medea huffed a bit as Eight felt a tug at his sleeve, and he looked down just in time to find that his pet mouse, Munchie, that he had had since before even he could remember, hopped up onto the top of his head, over his bandana, and chittered a bit. Each of them watched him until he quieted down, almost looking like he was huffing himself when he did. 

“I feel as though I just got chewed out by a mouse.” Angelo admitted first.

“Ya pro’ly did, considerin’ ya yelled at the guv like ya did.” Yangus told him, much to Angelo’s chagrin. 

“Ya jus’ don’t yell at the guv wifout bein’ yelled at, s’all there is. If I weren’t so bloomin’ tired, I’d’ve yelled at you meself!”

“As though you just didn’t.” Angelo sighed, but nothing more was said on that matter. And with that as the final word, and with a final worried look from Jessica, they each got back onto the Sabrecat (who gave Eight a few affirming licks to the hand, which nearly scared him out of his wits), Trode back into the carriage, and took off again to the east. Eight kept his head turned towards the mountain, however, even as it disappeared from view, the lack-luster green and sand and mountains turning to forest and trees and lakes. Even though the landmark disappeared, the fog and pain did not, not even subsiding slightly. 

It bothered Eight.

But it also intrigued him.

 _I must find my way there some day._ Eight promised to himself as he finally turned his head into the Sabrecat’s large one, tears pricking his eyes.

_I must find my way to that platform at the top. I can sense it;_

_I’ll find my answers there._

* * *

The party had entered a quaint kingdom-town called Argonia, the inn readily taking in the weary party of four due to the late hour. The Great Sabrecat released back into the wild, he or one of his brethren bound to the bell called Baumren's Bell, held in Eight’s hands to come to them again should they call, and Trode and Medea finding comfort away from the main gates of the kingdom, Jessica, Yangus, Angelo and Eight made their ways to their two rooms; Jessica and Eight in one, Angelo and Yangus in the next. While Eight would have preferred them all in one room (and they all so used to his insistence on it that they did not oppose), the innkeepers had informed them of only having two beds per room, so this was their layout for the night. Whilst normally Angelo would bunk with Eight, due to his loss of temper with the hero that night, Jessica had all but ordered him to the room in which Eight wouldn’t be in, and that had been their decision on who shared what (Yangus agreeing, of course, so he could give Angelo a piece of his mind first thing when he awoke).

However, as Jessica announced her leave to use the baths located downstairs of the room, Eight made his way to their room’s balcony (after letting Munchie find his way to Eight’s pillow for slumber), feeling far too upset to sleep now. While the fog and pain in his head had finally let up some, a new feeling of, oddly enough, homesickness had settled in his chest, and it felt as though poor Eight couldn’t breathe around its weight. Hoping the outside air would help him, he sat himself in a chair, gazing up at the stars as he begged the Goddess to listen to him, and answer his prayer of _What on_ **_earth_ ** _that had been about_.

“Eight.”

The simple sound of his name made the hero jump, but he turned to find Angelo leaning in the doorway that led to the balcony, refusing to look at him. He settled a bit, waiting as Angelo spoke again.

“I wanted to apologize for my temper earlier; it was foolish of me, to go off on you as I did, and I wanted to let you know that. I was worried, but I shouldn’t have let that anger me.”  
  
Eight studied the former Templar before he nodded his acceptance of the apology, looking away as Angelo looked to him, one of his crossed arms coming out to wave itself. 

“So what _was_ that all about? You’ve never acted so abruptly before, not even in the face of Dhoulmagus when he was right in front of us.”  
  
When Eight did not answer him immediately, verbally or not, Angelo pressed again, an eyebrow raising.

“Do you not trust us, Eight? Surely you know that, by now, we won’t just up and abandon you for any reason. We are not even willing to entertain the _thought_ of such a thing.”  
  
Still the hero was quiet, even turning his head away; it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Angelo and the others, for he trusted each of them with his very life, but he just… 

He felt _compelled_ to not tell them. In an odd way, he felt that even he himself wasn’t ready to talk about how the mountain made him feel. 

What was it about compulsion today that was so afflicting the world’s hero? He couldn’t even find the answer to that. 

Acknowledging his silence as being what Eight would keep with, Angelo moved away from the doorway and to the balcony rails, hands gripping the metal as he began to speak again, voice hardly above a whisper (though Eight’s hearing was great, and he could hear every word clearly enough). 

“I know I’m not one to speak on not following their impulses or compulsions.” He started, looking down to the ground a story below them. “Nor am I one to be ordering you around; on the contrary, _I_ am the one to be ordered by _you_ , though you’ve never been one to do so. In a way, I appreciate that- I’ve always detested rules and orders, so not having to follow any from you is a blessing. In that sense, it was wrong of me, to tell you not to follow your own.

“It simply was a product of my fear, which was shared by all of us, even Trode- when you jumped from the Sabrecat and ran towards the mountain, we didn’t know what to think. It was as if some other force had pushed you from the creature, pulling you by the hand out of our reach. I admit… For a moment, I thought perhaps that, somehow, the malicious power of that bastard Dhoulmagus had somehow gotten hold of you, wherever it is that he may be.”  
  
Angelo was gripping the railing so tight now that Eight could see him tremble, but Angelo continued on, undeterred by whatever pain that was giving him. 

“When you said it was a compulsion once more, I was worried… Perhaps that's the Sceptre, you see, talking, or whatever remnants of whatever possessed you, so I simply… Lost it. 

“You can choose whether or not you believe me, but this is the full truth, Eight. I wanted you to hear it before I fell in for the night.”

Eight said nothing in response to him. Sighing in defeat, but sounding almost expectant, as if Angelo had presumed he wouldn’t respond, he turned away from the rails, looking to Eight with a sad smile. 

“If that’s all, then, I’ll be going to bed. I trust that yo-”  
  
“-I feel homesick.”

Angelo blinked in surprise, the words taking a moment to register in his mind. He frowned, confusion coming to his features.

“Homesick? From the mountain? How is that possible, you were born in-”  
  
“-I was _found_ in Trodain.” He reminded the former Templar, a sudden whirl of feelings bubbling up into his chest. He gasped for air for a moment, making sure to catch his breath before he let loose what his mind was telling him.

“I was found in Trodain, so we assumed I was from around the area within the kingdom's territory, but I feel **_homesick_ ** from that mountain. Oh, Angelo, I-  
  
“I don’t think I’m Trodainian _at all_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you sm for readin this far !!!! It's like nksdnpnsdl 1 am and im rlly tired as im postin this so i dont have much else to say currently !!!! But hope u enjoyed readin and pls leave a kudos and comment if ya did !!! it would mean sm to me !!!!


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